


Edge

by LadyoftheShield



Series: Filling in the Blanks [1]
Category: Martin the Warrior - Fandom, Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Gen, Hypothermia, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 05:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6067030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheShield/pseuds/LadyoftheShield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin grieves for a loved one. Request by chocolatejavert on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edge

Everything is cold. His mind slow, he reached out, seeking her warmth only to find nothing there. White snow filled his vision, and Martin curled into a smaller ball, pulling his threadbare tunic around him in a vain attempt to warm himself. Her earthy voice echoed in his brain, whispering encouragements and kind words. 

"Everything is going to be OK, Martin"

"This is not your future"

"I love you."

At this moment, he found it hard to believe any of it save the last. She was gone, and without her he didn’t know if he could keep going. Burying his face into the crook of his arm so no one would see his tears, Martin bit the inside of his lip. He had to be the strong one here. He could not fail her memory, or his father wherever he was.

Voices, distant, tugged on his ear. He left them be, clinging to the warm memory of her soft, withered hands as they strokes his face. Martin locked his paws together. They were so cold they burned, but with the lack of feeling he could pretend it was her hand, not his own hand grabbing desperately for whatever comfort he could find.

"Martin, my child," his grandmother's voice whispered. "no one will protect you like yourself can."

More noise. He could recognize specific voices now as volume raised- but not too loud to attract the guards.

Already, Martin’s memory of her blurred. Greyed fur and a face lined with worry and with joy hovered just out of reach of the searching paws of his mind.

"-Windred-" he heard the name, and somewhere, energy gathered from nowhere in his bones. Maybe he was wrong, part of him thought, maybe she was just sleeping, or maybe she’d been called away by Badrang-

"Where's my grandmother?" he asked, pleading, raising his head. His vision distorted. "Please- She-" he felt his voice break, and buried his face in his paws rather than let any of them see the tears that threatened to spill.

Snow crunched as footsteps slowly approached him. "Your grandmother is dead," a rough voice said gently, and Martin felt a hand touch his shoulders. "Come with us to the fire. You will die if you stay here."

He didn't care enough either way to fight back or consent. The young mouse allowed himself to be carried, leaning against Barkjon like he were a steady, passive presence.

Even though he lingered on the edge of sleep all night and the cold burning leeched from his body as he lay pressed between two wiggly otter children, sleep never came to Martin that night.


End file.
